Noah and Snow
By Jeff Miller
From Vol. 3 No. 1, 2004
“So I was walking down St. Laurent the other night and I did something I don’t usually do,” Noah said.
“Well, I guess I tried to pick a fight with somebody.”
“Well yeah, this big ape of a dude with a fancy leather jacket, Tommy Hilfiger jeans and jelled up hair was talking on a cell phone and as he was crossing the street he bumped into me.”
“So I guess I said ‘Why don’t you go shove that cell phone up your ass?’ We were walking at the same pace on either side of the street yelling insults back and forth for about five minutes, until he says to the person he’s talking to, ‘I’m going across the street to see what this motherfucker wants.’
“So he comes across the street at me and says ‘Why don’t you tell my brother what you were calling me?’ and hands me the phone, but it’s dead. There’s no one on the other end. So I hand it back to him and he says into it ‘Yeah, this guy thinks he’s funny but really he really just has nice eyes.’”
“Was he trying to hit on you?”
“No. Then he asks me if I have any smokes and I do because someone left these Japanese cigarettes at my house, but neither one of us has a light. So we start walking north again, next to each other but not really together, you know? Then we see this really angry kid, couldn’t be older that fourteen, walking down the street punching the wall.
“We ask him if he has a light and he says,” Noah affects a Quebecois accent, “‘I ’ave fire for you, if you ‘ave cigarette for me.’ We’re all standing around smoking Japanese cigarettes on the street together. And then it began to snow. The first snow of the year.
“When he finished his butt the kid took off. But me and the cell phone guy stood and talked, only for a minute, but it was a real quality conversation. You know?”
“I guess you should try to pick fights more often.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Noah and Snow